Is it OK
that I think of
holding you?
It’s
the only way
I can fall asleep
…
Sometimes
Author: Pelgris
The wine guy
There’s wine in my room
Because I have no room to store it
Because I chose, in my youth that I’d be a wine guy.
Neverminding that I can taste every element of it
including the alcohol
and it’s hard to aquire the taste for something that is essentially poison.
But I’m the wine guy
with opinions on pinot noir vs chardonnay
but really I’m saying that one masks the poison better than the other
That one has a bite but doesn’t feel like being bitten.
That one I can drink but the other I’ll decline because I don’t drink whites
but really it just tastes like oak and rubbing alcohol.
I’ll drink blends because I’m a wine heathen
but I’ll say it’s because the combination meets and creates a uniqueness that must be savored
when I really mean that this combination tastes delicious
I don’t have to control my face to keep the disgust off of it.
After ordering a 12$ glass it’s hard to justify not drinking but wait, ah, too oaky.
It needs to be drunk in one to two years when the finish softens.
I know these things
I’m the wine guy
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Midnight breakfast
Heartache’s luxury breathes where lights burn
the thick smell of pancakes and fresh blueberries
passion wakes but all was lost ere it started
words falter in the debate of will or won’t
A mad dash for someone to hold
and lost amidst the jasmine
soft smells of resin and yellow pollen
waiting
unable to speak.
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Living for the memories
Fire flashes
last dance
night falls
golden light pours over the horizon
slow walk
more drudgery
memories burst
music swells
bass drops
Bodies writhe in heats abandon
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Lost composure
Drunk on light
Barely aware
Slipping away
Hoping for…
Something
Waiting for…
Unknown
Working towards…
Nothing
And the barren notes of a silent Symphony
Crash
I am buried
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Dreams ending
Life drains away
Second become minutes
The slow torrent becomes
Drip
…drip
……drip
Last light before the fade
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That’s depression talking
I don’t see myself as less, except on alternating Wednesdays or when I haven’t gotten enough sleep and my brain won’t stop telling me that this is all my fault. I am mostly aware that people love me and that I am a person worthy of love, except at 2 AM and the clock keeps ticking by and I’m sitting alone without someone who wants to hold me. I know that I laugh and make jokes that people find funny but I’m at my most cutting edge of laughter when I’m in such pain that there is no other outlet. Other than shouting and crying, and that’s frowned upon while sitting at my desk at work. I know I’m alright most of the time but sometimes I’m not.
And creeping along, I find myself filled with the need to get out, get out, get out. Just a flick of the blade and a few minutes till it’s over or jump from the roof, the fall will be interesting, or get a gun and go out to the desert to watch the sunrise one last time.
It’s not because I don’t love this world, because I do. I love the stirring of the trees in the wind. I love rain falling. I love watching people be unselfconciously themselves when they think no one is watching.
But I’m also that broken thing, this bag full of glass and I think it would be easier to not be here.
I need that connection of someone who wants me. Maybe just to hear my voice or to read my words on the screen. To look forward to hearing from them. To need that connection to be one step closer to happy.
They say love yourself before you can love others. I do. I know myself and see my self, it’s just that I feel unwanted and unloved most of the time and that feeling makes it hard to step out the door. And when I’m with someone, it all seems possible and the world is brighter and the work of living seems less like work.
And then it, somehow, is over or ended or put into some kind of holding pattern. It’s not that I need to be in a relationship, it’s just that I don’t feel worth love most days and I’m keenly aware of how I feel. When I’m with someone, I at least know that they like me, and if they do, maybe I’m worth love.
It’s not logical and I know that. I know that people love me. But I sometimes feel so alone and I can’t be the person who is constantly reaching out for reassurance. I don’t want to be that person who is the burden on their lives.
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Alchemy of heartache
To tell a story about breathing
About air filling lungs
About not thinking about you
About not dreaming about you
Only this pressure building
From within to without
Exhale
Expel it out
But lead sits heavy
All the things I cannot say
Because I wait
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Iron Kissed by Patricia Briggs is a hard read. *spoiler alert* *trigger warning*
Iron Kissed by Patricia Briggs is a hard read.
*spoiler alert*
I’d forgotten the rape in Iron Kissed. I think I blocked it out. I fills me up with rage. Makes me want to find whoever would do this and remove them from the world. I know it’s a novel, but I also know it happens. And that, often, the victim feels like it is their fault. That our so called justice system makes them out to be complicit in their own attack. It fills me with cold rage. I understand Adam’s reaction and the frustration at not being able to do anything to help his love. He was too late. And now that he’s here he doesn’t know how to make it better. Everything he is, every contact, every skill cannot make it better. And you can’t kill someone twice.
Our world is broken that this occurs in it. Doubly so that those who commit these atrocities are allowed to walk free. To keep breathing.
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Waking alone
These moments of desperation
Reaching for you
And finding absence
Scrabbling for purchase
In this new normal
Pelgris 